Only the Lonely
by Outasync
Summary: Set just before "Waters of Mars".  The Randomiser takes the tenth Doctor to see an old friend who might be able to help him.


**A/N**: Welcome to the first ever chapter of my first ever piece of fan-fiction. Ever. Please review. The rest of this story is outlined, and will be posted just as soon as I get it written.

**Disclaimer**: I am do not own any part of Doctor Who. Sad, but true.

**Only the Lonely**

The grinding, wheezing sound of the engines died away and the room steadied as the TARDIS materialised on yet another new world. The Doctor pulled the viewing screen toward him and examined it critically, eager to see where he'd landed this time.

"Hm, looks like a city, but I can't see any people," he said. "Night-time, I suppose. Doesn't look deserted, or ruined. Can't really tell much more from here, let's go and take a proper look, hey?"

Stifling silence answered him, and he blinked. It felt strange, being alone again. Not that he minded talking to himself, he'd always done that. Talked to the TARDIS, too, all the time. But it was strange, this silence that hung around him now. He looked again at the empty city streets. There might be people out there, in the buildings or walking along the roads. Behind him, the endless miles of TARDIS corridors held only emptiness and memories.

Quickly, his long coat-tails flaring behind him, the Doctor made for the door and the emptiness of the unknown city.

~0~

It was a bit of a disappointment, frankly. The streets were dark and empty, the buildings unadorned and uniformly drab in the pale blue glow of the streetlights. The Doctor mooched about for half-an-hour before deciding to head back to the TARDIS. That was always part of the risk of using the Randomizer, he thought to himself as he retraced his steps. There were just so many places and times where absolutely nothing was happening.

The funny thing was, he'd always suspected that the "Randomizer" was nothing of the sort. It felt more like a way of allowing the TARDIS to choose their destination. More than once the old girl had taken him somewhere he'd needed to go, even if he himself hadn't realised it at the time. So why had she brought him here? Perhaps he should stick around, he might find this place more interesting once the night was over. _So, a couple of hours kip in the TARDIS, then back to exploring, right_? _Right_, he said to himself as he rounded the last corner. _Uh, or not_...

There stood his TARDIS, tall and blue and totally surrounded by armed guards. Not good. He was trying to back away quietly when one of the guards saw him. Very not good. The guard walked towards him. The Doctor backed away. More guards appeared from the alleys, materialising silently from the pre-dawn mists. Extremely not good. Extremely not good indeed.

"Good morning, sir," said one of the guards, dark-haired man with ever-so-slightly sticking-out ears. "Would this box be yours, by any chance?" The polite tone took The Doctor by surprise; this man sounded more like a policeman than a soldier. Still, policeman or soldier, he was still standing between The Doctor and his TARDIS. And he still had a gun.

"Yes, that's my... mine," The Doctor admitted. "So if you would just let me get to it..." He made a few steps towards the doors, but the guard blocked his way.

"The captain wants to see you," he said, simply. "This way, sir."

~0~

And so it was that, quite gently and without fuss, The Doctor was escorted around three sides of a long, low building and into a large hallway. About half of his honour guard peeled off at this stage and headed back, presumably to re-mount guard over the TARDIS. The remaining guards lead the way to a plain, functional office. The walls were lined with maps, filing cabinets and bookshelves, and in the centre of the room was a plain, wooden desk. Behind the desk, on an equally plain, wooden chair, sat a uniformed man with a steely gaze: presumably this "captain" he'd been brought to see. _Not Captain Jack, then,_ thought the Doctor. He wasn't sure if he was glad or sorry about that. Judging by the lines on the man's face, and the traces of grey in his red hair, The Doctor would have said he was about fifty years old – assuming he was human, of course. But since he didn't know which planet he was on, there was no guarantee that this captain _was_ human. Bipedal hominid was a very popular look in these parts, as he knew all too well.

As The Doctor was examining the captain, so the captain was returning the compliment. After what felt like several minutes of this, the man behind the desk spoke.

"Please, sit down," he said, indicating a chair placed in front of the desk. The Doctor took hold of the chair and, after the smallest hesitation, sat down. The politeness was started to make him uneasy. He'd almost rather they were threatening him. You knew where you were with threats.

"That blue box that was found, is it yours?" The captain's tone was level and conversational, and giving nothing away.

"Ah, yes. That's my... box. My TARDIS. Rather important to me, actually, so if you'd let me..."

"Open it? Step inside? Take off? No, Doctor. Not just yet, if you please." The man's face remained impassive, but his voice seemed to betray a touch of... what was it? Irritation? Amusement? The Doctor got the impression that he was missing something, something important.

"Do you know me?" he asked, studying the face of the man before him. Surely it was familiar, but from where?

"I know who owns that box," the captain replied. "And if you're _not_ the Doctor then you are in rather serious trouble, I think." The Doctor's eyebrows shot up at this, and the captain stared at him, almost frowning.

The Doctor stared back, straining his memory. _Ginger. I've always wanted to be ginger. Who do I know with red hair?_ Abruptly an image of Donna flashed into his mind. His train of thought faltered. He didn't want to think about her, not now. He broke away from the captain's gaze, but not before the man saw the look of pain in the Time Lord's eyes.

"You may go," the captain said to his men. "Give us this place alone."

"Alone? But, Vi... er, sir..." his lieutenant started to object, but the captain cut him off.

"I know this man, although we haven't seen each other for a long time. We have a lot of... catching up to do." The guards left the room, albeit reluctantly, and the two men heard the lieutenant posting a man outside the door.

The captain allowed himself a small smile. "I suppose I can't blame him for that," he said. "After all, he is my little brother as well as my junior officer. It would appear that he doesn't remember you, Doctor. Ah well, he only met you once, briefly, and he was very young at the time. I sometimes think he has tried to forget the whole of his life on Sarn. You remember, Doctor. Before he returned to Trion. With me."

_Sarn... Trion... little brother..._ The Doctor's eyes opened wide, and he had a struggle to keep his mouth from doing the same. He stared in disbelief at the man in front of him, so much older than when they last met, but with the same red hair, the same pale blue eyes, and that same, sardonic smile.

"Turlough? Vislor Turlough! Good grief, you've... changed," The Doctor said, somewhat lamely. It was hard to equate this stern captain with the sulky schoolboy who'd been sent to kill him and ended up saving his life. Gone was the suspicious scowl and the hunted look, the hunched shoulders and petulant tone to the voice.

Turlough laughed. "_I've_ changed? That's rich, coming from you. What is this, your sixth body now? Seventh?"

The Doctor sighed. "Tenth," he admitted. "It's been... it's been a long time, Turlough. A very long time."

"Yes, I suppose it has," the captain replied. "So, who are you travelling with these days? And what brings you to Trion? Did you mean to come here, or did that old TARDIS of yours get lost again?"

"I'll have you know my TARDIS does not 'get lost'," The Doctor said, sharply. "We make the occasional side-trip, but that's not the same thing. Not the same thing at all."

"You haven't changed that much, I see," Turlough remarked, dryly. "Still as touchy as ever about your ship – and your own piloting skills."

"There's nothing wrong with my piloting skills. I think I fly her very well, considering that I'm doing the work of six."

"Six?" Turlough echoed. "You've got a crew of six now? Where are they?" He looked through the window to where the TARDIS stood, still guarded, as if expecting to see a small crowd coming out of it.

The Doctor's face fell. "Gone," he said. "I did have enough people to fly her properly once, just once. It was... strange. Actually, there were more than enough people. The old girl flew like a dream." He stopped and sighed again. "But they've all gone now, back to their homes and families. Now it's just me. Well, me and the TARDIS."

With a degree of tact that The Doctor would not have expected from the old Turlough, the captain deftly changed the subject. "And so you came to Trion," he said. "Very sensible of you, you spend altogether too much time hanging around Earth. I'll take you on a proper tour of the city tomorrow, but for tonight you're staying at my house. There's plenty of room, and I won't take no for an answer."

The Doctor opened his mouth to protest that he wasn't tired and that, even if he were, he had a bed in the TARDIS, but Turlough had already risen from his desk and opened the door.

"Ah, Lieutentent, I thought I'd find you here. The Doctor will be staying with me, as my guest. You may stand down the guard on the TARDIS, but have the men carry it indoors. For safe-keeping," he added, with a glance at The Doctor. "No-one is to try to open it, understand?"

A frown crossed the younger man's face, but he nodded. Turlough clapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Good man, Mal. Honestly, everything's alright. I'll explain later, OK?"

"OK, Viz, if you're sure," said his younger brother.

"I am. Now, get that box moved before the shift changes."

Walking back into the room, Turlough picked up his cloak from the back of his chair and motioned The Doctor to follow him out again. "Come on," he said. "Let's go."

~0~

Turlough's house was off to one side of the base, and they reached it within minutes of leaving his office. The Doctor pulled a face as he was led past the more blatantly military areas, he didn't think he would ever feel entirely happy around guns and soldiers. Still, the residential area seemed pleasant enough, and The Doctor noticed that the captain was not wearing a side-arm. Although happy about this, it struck him as a little odd.

"Not armed, Turlough?" The Doctor remarked, as casually as he could. "Not for my benefit, I hope."

The captain gave him a confused look for a moment, then nodded in understanding. "Ah, yes. I'd forgotten about you and guns. Although, I seem to recall you using them yourself on occasion." The Doctor's eyes narrowed. He remembered, but he didn't like it.

"Right now, Doctor, I'm off duty. We're not at war with anyone, and this is not a dangerous part of the city. I have no need of a gun here." Turlough looked at his friend's expression, and it seemed to amuse him. "Not every military base in the universe is filled with mindless thugs, Doctor. Just the ones on Earth," he added, slyly.

The Doctor frowned, sharply. "Oi!" he started, then stopped at the look on his old companion's face. "I'm older and wiser now, Turlough," he chided, grinning ruefully. "You can't wind me up like you used to, not anymore."

They had reached Turlough's house now, and as he stepped up to open the door he seemed to be hiding a smile. "Shame," he said, almost under his breath.

"Oi!" said The Doctor. "I heard that!"


End file.
